A peaßpww attarasr, "hfle trying s oauae.
Was qalsstas s witness and looking for flaws.
Ite witness, who owed htm s personal grudge
Provoked htm until he appealed to the Judge
-1 dsmsnil. Mr," he ertod, with s fiery-rod
fees,
•• A Utile attention whOe trying this esse."
•• Tow honor," responded the meek Uttls man,
"I* paying as little ae any onsoaa."
The Judge, with s frown,
Looked solemnly down
On the squabble, and said, from tho bench
whore he sat,
" We want nothing hat Wlenae, and little of
that,-
v
n.
Bald young Romeo Butte to Wise Clsribel Outts,
(As U>ey>tood in a parlor resplendent with
Utt),
With a wearisome sigh, "Oh,l oannotteU why,
But somehow, I feel like a fool here to-night
Bald Was Claribel Outts to Romeo Butts,
WRh a pMßeas mile that she oonld not oon
oeal :
" Tee. your face woold betray,l am sura, what
rmmy,
For you certainly look all you say that you
feeL"
"Oh, husband !" said Mrs. Ophelia McMnnn,
As she gased at her willful and passionate eon'
" Where that boy got his temper, I Dover could
see;
I'm certain he Dover could take it from me."
"No doubt, my dear wife, your aaeortiou is
true—
I never have missed any temper from you."
Chicago Trihunr
THE STORY OF TWO SINGERS.
An Italian vessel had reached the
shores of America. The passengers bad
landed. The wealthy had been taken
to their hotels or their friends' homes in
carriages. The poor folk, who still hat!
some certain destination and some one
to greet and meet, had been led away
tinder friendly guidance, after many
embraces and much gesticulation, or
had taken cars and omnibusses for the
purpose of reaching their homes and
the welcome that awaited them. Borne,
poor and forlorn, were wandering vague
ly about the Battery—the prey of emi
grant boarding-housekeepers—and one,
poorest and most forlorn of all, sat upon '
a bench under a great tree and wept 1
silently. Bhe was a woman. She was ;
young and of the peasant class. Her
husband had died upon tne voyage.
Bhe had not a friend in America, and
some thief had stolen her purse from
under her pillow, as she slept between
her little children in her berth in the
steerage.
She had only a great bag, with a few j
shabby garments, and these two chil
dren, and a pair of earrings, which she |
might, perhaps, sell for a little bread— '
in all the world. As she stared oat j
upon the water, which bad swept swsy ;
the body of her dead husband, and
which still covered it, she was very I
miserable.
" If it bad been the Lord's will that I
also should be buried in the sea," she .
sobbed. "I and my children." And !
she bent her bead upon her hands; her '
eyes were blinded with tears; she saw
nothing of what was going on just then.
" Mother 1" cried the eldest child.
" Mother, look. The bad boy has car
ried off our bag."
The poor creature started to her feet. !
Bhe stared wildly about her. A boy was
running away at full speed with the bag
of clothes on his back. Uttering u
scream, she began to ran at full speed.
People stared at her, but did not know
why she ran, or understand that the in- !
terpretation of her cry was "stop thief."
The boy outran her very soon; her
breath failed her. Bhe saw him turning
a corner of the street, and regardless of
the wagons, eon and carriages in her
path, dashed across the road. Thoie
was a cry—a crash ; a policeman strode <
out upon the crossing and stopped the
vehicles, and the body of the Italian
woman was lifted from the ground ; her i
black hair fell over her ahonlders, her
eyes were fixed, her face pallid, and the
yellow kerchief about her hood soaked <
in blood. No one knew anything about
her. They carried her to the hospital; i
thence to the morgue. Afterward she |
was buried where they bury paupers. j,
When their mother ran after the thief, : i
the little girls sat where she had left i
them, for awhile; each was playing with
something. To amuse them their
mother had riven them her earrings
two hoops of gold.
. They had their own little ears pierced,
bat as yet there were only threads in j !
them. Their father had promised that,
when be made hia fortune, they should I
have gold earrings like their mother's. ; I
But their father was buried in the see, 1
and their mother was poor. It did not i
seem likely tbey should ever have rny i
of those nice things that they had been
promised when they came to America.
Howevor. children are light hearted, and |
they were on land again and not stuffed
it to the steerage of the crowded ship; |
sod they had no doubt that their mother <
would catch the boy with the bog. They
jdsyed with the earrings and stared at j'
tbo pedestrians and at the carriages, j,
with uo anxieties about their mother, i
until they grew hungry. Then the
youngest began to cry.
" Mother stays a long wLile," said the
oldest. "Let us go snd look for her, ]
and tell her we wont supper." And <
awsy they went, hand in hand, each
clutching her earring.
The eldest was s handsome girl of
eight; the youngest a Utile aix-year-old
beauty, wonderful to contemplate. Tbey
•poke only Italian, of oouise, As they !
wsadmod on looking for their mother,
*od growing more and more frighteuo-i
at every step, there came mnrdnng up (
Broadway ,a military procession. The j
bugles blared, the drums beat, the ben- 1
sen wvod, a crowd of hangers-on (
tramped over the sidewalk. Rough
mm nod boys took no heed of the little i
ei, ami they were at lost separated,
oldest was helplessly pushed for- I
word by the crowd ; the little one, who
had clang to the railings of s reetau
rant-wms left behind.
*' When the procession end the crowd
had passed, she still sat there, weeping
bitterly. " What a beantifnl child,"
said many, and one or two spoke to her,
bat she did not understand, and oonld
not answer them. At last there came
along the street an old Italian with an
organ on his back, and a monkey perch
ed upon it. He paused in front of tho
restaurant and held ont bis hand to the
child.
" What has happened to the pretty
little girl ? Has she lost herself ?" he
asked ; and the child, glad to hear words
that she could oomprehend, told him
her story.
The old man listened kindly.
" Dr T your tears,pretty one," he said.
" Wo will find yonr mother, and mean
while, yon shall hare supper with mo
and my monkey. Bee what a One
monkey. He will shake hands with yon.
Pepa, shake bauds with the pretty lit
tle girl, and bow."
The monkey put ont one brown paw
and took oil his velvet cap by the crown
with the other.
His pranks smused the child. Bho
trotted along by the sido of the organ
grinder, and had maoaroui with him in
a dismal little room in a terribloold to no
men t house. Bho had no doubt that be
could fiud her mother for her—her
mother and her little sister Franceses;
for Bianca was only six years old, and
at that age we aro always hopeful. But
the old man who.ofter tfie frugal supper,
went nbont to do what lio could to find
the child's mother,soon learned the truth.
Ho knew Bianca was the child of the
poor woman who had been killed ; and
though he kept tho knowledge to him
self with a dread of mysterions ovil, per
sonal oonscqnonoes peculiar to foreign
ers who do not quite understand the
lawH of tho land—and scarcely to be
wundcrod at—ho generously resolved to
take care of the little girl, to whom ho
did not t£ll tho truth. Bianca believed
that her mother would soon come back,
until she forgot her grief ; but the old
man bonght a little bit of black ribbon
and suspended to it the solitary earriug.
" Never part with it," he said. "It
is a memento of your mother, pretty
one."
He had n little poetrv in his breast,
as most Italians have, though he was
only a poor organ-grinder.
Every day when he went out with his
monkey ami hia organ, he took the
child with him. Bhe held the plate,
into which the patrons of this cheap
! concert dropped their coin.
After awhile, he taught her to sing
some little songs. Italian children can
always sing ; ami it w„s no loss to him
to have adopted this little creature, for
ho never made half as much before,
! The child brought him luck. One day a
1 musician heard her sing, an<l offered to
I teach her to sing 1 letter. Her voice vu
i full and rich. Bhe studied carefully.
Bhe was beautiful and attractive. As
she grew up the old man began to see
that he mnst no longer take her into the
street. "Stay at home, pretty one,"
he said. " Study at the school. A
I better fate awaits yon than to sing be
j fore windows and catch pennies in a
j platter."
j The girl was glad to obey. Hhc work
ed harder than ever to improve. Bhe
I kept the poor place neat; she cooked
| her adopted father's meals and made
j her own cheap garments neatly. Hope
| roee high within her, bat, alas I miafor
! tune was at hand. The old man made
I very little, now that hia yonng singer
t was not with him. One day the monkey
was killed by a larger one, who threw it
from the ropes where the two dangled
together—ropes swung from pulley
lines fastened to the windows of the
houses. Poor Pepa was thrown to the
pavement below, and his neck broken.
Ureal grew scarce, and the old roan,
lamed with rheumatism, could scarcely
carry his organ about; and, at last, the
hope that had inspired both perished in I
an hour. The kind musician died ; the
free music lessons were over forever, and j
they oonld never pay for instruction.
One dsy Bianca found her father, as ;
she colled him, actually ill, and their j
humble means of subsistence at an end i
for the present
••Forever," said Bianca to herself,
" if I cannot earn his bread in his age, as
he has earned mine in my youth. Barely,
even my little knowledge of mnaia is of
some avail."
Bitting with her hea<! upon her handa,
she remembered the brautiful young
prima donna who sang at tho opera, and
whose voice she had beard through the
oj>en window of a certain great hotel.
" Bhe is said to be charitable," ahe
said ; •• at least she would tell a poor
girl if it might be possible for her to
earn her living by her voice; where to
apply; what to do." And, full of that
ardent trust in human nature which ia
part of youth, she tied on bar poor little
hat, and made her way through the
wretched streets in which she lived to
the great thoroughfare in which stood
the hotel which was the prima donna's
home.
"Can I see signora?" abe asked
timidly of a servant who answered her
timid ring.
" Well, it isn't likely, young woman,"
said the msn ; " she's just going out to
ride. Does she know you T
" No," said the poor girl; •• but"—
" Oh—begging, or something, I sup
pose," said the roan. '• No. yon can't."
" Let me be the judge/ said a aoft
voice ; and a beautiful lady clad in vel
vet swept toward her. " What have
yon to nay to me ?" she saked, kindly.
And Bianca was about to reply when
she suddenly caught sight of something
pendent from a chain which the lady
wore that struck her dumb. It was an
earring—a hoop of gold—the mate to
that about poor Bianca's neck. Bhe re
membered bow her mother had given
ono to each of them to quiet them on
that day when she sat deeolste upon a
foreign shore. Strange fancies filled
her mind. Oonld this be Franossea ?
If it were, would she not despise the
poor organ grinder's adopted child f—
an ignorant girl, so shabby that the
servants took her for a beggar.
'• Oome along with me, my child,"
said the beautiful yoabg lady, "At
least you are of my country. I know it
by your accent. We have that tie.
Come."
Bho led her to her sumptuous apart
ment, snd closed the door.
" Now, let me know what you cams
for," she said, smiling.
Bianoa bent her head, trembling.
"I oame for something else," ahe
said, bnt I oan only think of one thing
now—that hoop upon your chain. What
is it? Where did you get it f And you
look—oh I you look—you are like
She faltered and paused.
" This bit of gold," said the lady, "is
all I have to remind mo of my lost
mother. I wear it for that. And be
sides—l have been told that it may bo a
means of—of— Bhe broke off and
covered her face with her hands. "Why
did you notice the ring?" she said,
" Of whom do I remind you ?"
"Of my mother," said Bianoa. "Mv
mother, who ou the day of our arrival iu
this conntry, left me with my sister
upon the Battery. Bhe was killed in the
street, though I did not know of it for
yearn afterward. An old man—good and
kind, but very poor—cared for me. I
never saw my sister again. I came to
see you, signers, to ask you wliat one
could do with a good voice and love for
music, but with little musical education.
I heard you were charitable, but—Oh,
signora, what does it mean ? As we aat
on that bench on the Battery, my sister
and I, our mother gave us each ono of
her golden earrings to play with. Bee !
I have mine yet."
Hho drew it from her bosom.
"Your name?" criod the prima
donna.
" Bianca," said the girl.
" I am Franctsca ! " cried tho other.
Bhe held ont her arms, and the next
moment the two girls sobbed upon each
other's bosom.
Franceses had been adopted by a rich
man, who had developed her great tal
ent by all the menus in his power. And
now she herself was winning fame and
fortnne. A great joy had oornc to her in
tho restoration of her sister, and she
took her at once and forever to her heart
and homo.
And the old Italian, in tho comfort of
a luxurious hou e and the society of his
adopted daughter, who soon followed in
hei sister's footsteps, and became a
great singer, fonnd himself well repaid
for his kindness to tho orphan child,
and ended his days in peace and happi.
noes.
Why they Explode.
The Scientific American explains Uie
philosophy of keroeenn lamp explosions.
Read ami learn how to avo:d danger :
All explosions of petroleum lamps arc
caused by the vapor or gas that collects
n the space above th© oil. Of course,
a full lamp contains no gas, but immedi
ately on lighting th© lamp consumption of
oil t>egins, noon leaving a space for gas,
which comment** to form as tho lamp
warms np; and after burning a abort
time sufficient gaa will accumulate to
form an explosion. Th© gaa in a amp
will cxplo lc only when ignited. In this
respect it is like gunpowder. Cheap or
inferior oil i* always th© most danger
ous. Tlie fl-.me is communicated to the
gas in th© following manner : Th© wick
tube in the lamp-burner* is mad©
larger than tho wick which ia to pas*
through it. It would not do to have
the wick work tightly in the burner ;
on tho contrary, it is essential that it
move up and down with perfect ease.
In thi* way it i* unavoidable that space
in tho tube is left along ti c aiu© of the
wick sufficient for the flam© from the
burner to pass down into tho lamp and
explode th© gaa.
Many thing* occur to cause the flam©
to pass down tb© wick and explode the
lamp. 1. A lamp may be standing on
the table or mantel, and a slight puff of
air from the open window or door may
ennae an explosion. 2. A lamp may be
taken np quickly from a table or mantel l
and instantly exploded. 3. A lamp ia
taken into an entry where there in a
draught, or out of door*, and an explo
sion ensue*. 4. A lighted lamp ia taken
up a flight of stairs, or is raised quickly
to place it on a mantel, resulting in ati
explosion. In these instances tho mis
chief i* done by the air movement,either
by auddenly chocking the draught or
forciug air down the chimney against
the flame. 5. Blowing down the chim
ney to extinguish the light ia a frequent
cause of explosion. 6. Lamp explosions
have been caused by nsing a chimney
broken off at the top, or one that has a
piece broken, whereby the draught ia
variable and the flame unsteady. 7.
Sometime* a thoughtless person puts a
small sited wick in a large burner, thus
leaving considerable space along the
edge* of the wiok. 8. An old burner,
with its air draught* closed np, which
rightinlly should be thrown awav, ia
sometimes continued in nse, and* th
final resnlt is au explosion.
Hew te Utilise Old Fruit Can*.
Perhaps one of the moat appropriate
naee of an old fruit can that can be de
vised ia to make it contribute to the
Kiwth of new frnit to fill new cans,
ia ia done in the following manner:
The can ia pierced with one or morn pin
boles, and then sunk in the earth near
the root* of the strawberry or tomato or
other plants. The pin holes are to be of
such size that when the can is filled with
water the fluid can onlv escape into the
ground Tory alowly. Thus a qnart oan,
properly arranged, will extend ita irrigv
tion to the plant for a period of several
day* ; the oan is then refilled. Practical
trials of thia method of irrigation leave
no doubt of ita success. Plant* thus
watered flourish and yield the moat
bounteoiia returns throughout the long
eat drouth*. In all warm localities,
where water ia scarce, the planting of
old fruit can*, aa here indicated, will be
found profitable as a regular gardening
operation. — Scientific American.
A Uremetlve l u a t|airk*and.
The Leavenwarth (Kan.) 7*mcs nan:
Mention m made in the Timr dnring
the summer of a singular accident which
oecnrred on the Kansas Pacific road at
the bridge crossing Kiowa creek, forty
two milea eaet of louver, in which an
engine attached to a ireight train went
through the bridge into the bed of the
creek, instantly disappearing in the
qnick sand and baffling all attempt* to
recover it For the pact si* months tbe
search for tbe '•>, wing leeomoHve |gg
been kept np, rear.Huig bi aw* *e c wo or
three daya ago, when t waa funnd hurl-d
forty feet deep in the quicksand. The
sand had been removed for a gnat num
ber of yards around tbe seene of tbe die
sppeanuoe of tbe engine, a hydrantie
ram being used, the locomotive being
fonod at Uat after a search of six
months. The instance is one of the
most remarkable on record.
Heett'i Poetry la Wester* Prose.
The train had withdrawn from the
eaatle, but Marmion lingered behind to
bid adieu to Donglasa. " Though
something might be explained," he
said, "of cold respect to a gentleman
sent hither by your king's beheet, while
in Tantallion s towors I stayed, part me
in friendship and noble earl, receive my
hand."
But Douglass was out of sorta, and
taking another reef in the band of his
ulster, said :
"My dear sir, my manors, halls,
towers, et cetera and so forth, are open
at my sovereign's will to whoever he de
sires to send hither, no matter how un
worthy such a ono may be to stand in
tho presence of the gentleman who now
has the floor," and he looked Marmion
straight in the eye.
" My castlee are my king's alone,
he continned, " from cu]>ola to the
basement kitchen, but tho band of
Douglass is his own and never ahall in
friendship clasp the hand of such as
Marmion carries so jauntily in the
breast of his cntaway." Ho saying he
thrust his hands in his pantaloons
pockets and turned on his heel.
Marmion was the maddest man in
town. Hi 1 swarthy check burned until
it was red as a lobster and aliook his
very frame for ire. " And this to me I"
ho yelled ; " an' 'twere not for thy gray
hairs snch hand as Marmion had not
snared to cloavo the Dong lass head aa
if struck by lightning, and I'm not so
snro bnt I'il do it anyhow I And I tell
thoo haughty poor, he who does Eng
land's mew.age bring, although the
meanest politician in the country, may
well, proud Angus, be thy mate I
And furthermore, my gentle gazelle,
even in thy pitch of pride, nero
in thy hold, thy vasealn and lick
spittles near—take yonr hand ont of
yonr hip pocket or JH smash yon—l
tell thee thou are defied I And if thon
naidat I am not peer to any lord in Boot
land, Lowland or Highland, rich or
poor, Lord Angus, yon re a liar 1" and
lie shook his list under the Douglass
nose.
It wna now Douglass' turn to get mail,
and he improved the excellent oppor
tunity cffeisd. At first he turned white
and purple about the gills, and hia ears
wagged in awful silence. Then he broke
forth:
*' Dnreat thou to beard a family of
royal Bengal tigers in their den, the
Douglass in hia hall ? And hopeat thou
thence unscathed to got No; by Saint
Patrick of Both we 11, no! Up draw
bridge, grooms I What, warder I let
the portcullis fall, *Dd be lively abont
it, while I take it out of the fellow's
hide 1"
Tb© warder and grooms wore on deck
in an instant, bnt a moment was lost in
running to the kitchen to get the key of
the portcullis from the hired girl. Lord
M arm ion turned—well was his uc<d—
and dashed the rowels in hia mule, that
shot like an arrow through the archway,
and kicked the top of tbejiortenJli* aa it
descended behind him. The mule along
the drawbridge clattered just as it trem
bles on the rise. In the word* of an
unknown poet:
Not swifter doc* the swallow -kim.
Along lb* smooth lake s ICTOI bnm.
When Lord Marmiou reached his
band, where he knew he was compara
tively *afe, he turned around in the sad
dle and yelled at the top of bis voice:
" I'll see you later—when 1 do," and
shook hia gauntlet at the tower*. De
troit J-Vrr Prrtt.
A W inter Exenlng flame.
The player* ait in a row, and the first
j "ays: *• I am going on a journey to Al
j bany." or any place beginning with an
jA. The one seated next to her aaya:
" What will yon do there ?" The verb*
: and nonn* in the answer ronat begin
j with the same letter, and ao on through
i the alphabet; the one who auk a the
j question "What will von do there?"
i eont inning the game. Hut as an exam
: pie ia bettor than any directions, we
I will relate to yon how a party of chil
dren played it:
Ellen—l am going on a journey to
l Albany.
l*rai*a —What will you do there ?
Ellen—Ask for apple* and apricot*.
Loniaa-(To her next neighbor) lam
| going to Ronton.
Frank—What will yon do there?
j Ix>nina- Rny bonnet* ami ban*.
Frank—l am going to college.
Hnaan—What will yon do there ?
Frank—Cnt capers.
Susan—l am going to Dover.
Sarah—What will yon do there ?
| Hasan—Dreas dolls.
Sarah— I am going to Erie.
Rnasel—What will yon do thero?
Sarah—Eat egg*.
Rnaael—l am going to Fairhaven.
Grace—What will yon do there ?
Rnaael- Feed fawn* with frog*.
| Grace—l am going to Grecnbuah.
Howard—What will yon do there t
Grace—Qive gold to girls.
Howard—l am going to Hanover.
Sarah—What will yon do there ?
Howard—Hunt vrith hounds and
bomea.
The party goe* through the alphabet
in the above manner. Whoever cannot
answer readily, after doe time is al
lowed, most suffer some penalty.
The Hangmen's Record.
In the United States daring the pest
yenr ninety-six murderers (all men)
were hanged—an increase of thirteen
over the reoord for the previous year.
Of thia nnmber forty-one were white,
fifty-two colored, two Indiana and one
Gbmaman. Five wore banged for out
rage, and fonr for wife murder. There
were seven double executions, four
triple and two quadruple. Friday te
tain* the reputation as hangman's day,
seventy executions having taken place ou
that day. The largest number in any one
month was in March; twenty-five exe
cution* having then occurred. Seventy
per cent, of the hangings were in the
Southern States, and nearly two thirds
of the victim* wore colored. In Texas
t.*wware tea- Lou is* an*. t-Jnc; Ala
LJStm, eight; South Owwbu*, eight;
Carolina, eight; Pennsylvania,
six; Missouri, five; Georgia, five; Ten
nesaee, four: Arkansas, four; California,
four; Hew fork, three; Kentucky, Vir
gink, Montana, Delaware, Ohio, Mis
sissippi and Maryland, each two; Mas
sachusetts, Ariaona, Florida, New
Hampshire, Indiana and Nevada, each
one.— New York Humid,
lkvi§L£ V I®
CLAY OH CBOWH.
UurfMN.Oij H.lw. Hi. VIM la Behalf
ef the RlrW-Wkai Keape frmm lie Ifce
Plaaee mf Karat.
Cousins M. Clay writes to the Rich
mond Reaitter as follows : I was pain
ed to see In your jonrnal lately an ao
connt of the slaughtering of the crows,
without protest.
Nature seems to have provided for
the greatest sum of animal life. First
vegetables, then insects, and then high
er animals, man standing at the apex.
All insectivorous birds are the allies of
man; withont birds the human race
would have a hard struggle for exist
enoe, and wonld perhaps be exterminat
ed. Over all the world the great
breeders of famine—the locusts and
grasshoppers—are ruinous only where
birds cannot exist.
Tho swarms of locusts, which the
Bible tells infested Egypt, exist yet,
and will exist until trees shall be
planted or saused to grow in all places
whore grass grows ; then the
birds will have come and destroyed
the locusts. Bo the same law pre
vails in interior Africa and in
the United Htates. All along tho
Platte river for hundreds of miles,
wherever I saw a few treea and ahmbs
there were hawks hovering over to
ponnoe down upon and destroy the
birds. The prairie chickens are de
ft royed by mnn, and between those two
ullifcß the birds are lost and tho locusts
spread ruin; every green thing is eaten,
and men fly for life to other lands or
perish I
The phylloxera in Franco, a small in
fect, has inflicted, by the ruin of the
vine, more loss than tho German war !
In early years our Htato was full of
woodpeckers and kindred birds. They
ate some apples and other fruit; our
fatliera destroyed them. Then our veg
etables were flue and perfect; after the
birds have l>een killed we are overrun
with insects; perfect fruit and vegeta
bles are now almost unknown.
B j I believe Uut lb© quails or par
| tridgcs, th'jn(,h gramnivorour, aleo do
; stroy many insects. Whilst all onr
' ; "tbcr bird* feed mc-tly upon insects,
c every bird Laa hia special habitat
B j Th© swallowi, several species in Kcn
j tnckv, feed on th© wing; the owla upon
| th© tipa of treca aiid leave*—pinching
j j off insects, often tin wen by th© natural
p j ©ye. The wren and sparrow are verr
n activo feeder* near and npon the ground
t | When th© pea* are sown I have observ
ed the sparrows following the lint* and
, ; picking up the nea Img* aa they emerge
| from th© ground. There are many birds
f which pock th© roa© bnah and grape
j vines. All the woodpecker and aap
t | sucker trib© cat bugs and not sap.
t For many yeara I have kept a box
f nailed to a tree near my library window;
] I feed about a quart of crumbs and
hominy a day. Last winter I counted
I fourteen varieties eating tbera, among
others, the beautiful red-birds, which,
' though naturally ahy, have become
almost aa tame aa the sparrows. I had
rather a sportsman would shoot down
! and carry off a pig than on© of those
| beautiful songster* I
And now with this preface I com© to
1 tb© crows. For long years I have
©eased my early war upon th© crows.
They are eminently insectivorous. The
" j crow, when the weather is very ©old,
. | will ©at tho ©yes of weak, prostrate
1 lamb*, other birds' egg* and young;
take corn from the ground when it is
j fl**t sprinted, and follow and ©at the
soft, half jligeated corn from fed cattle
lin the field*. But for all this they
I should never be killed. In man© lands
| the buzzard, a* a scavenger. in protected
by law. The crow in aleo a rooat act,ire
I scavenger, bat, a* I aaid, ia mostly in
seetivorou*. I dissected ycmng crow*
; in the neat, and never fonnd a aeed or
; grain of oorn. I found bugs, beetle*
and, aboTe all, cab rpillara. Thi* morn
ing, all orcr my blncgraaa pasture, the
( mercury atan ling at twenty-eight de
gree* Fahrenheit, and a thin cruet of
frozen earth and a fine enow existing,
tliere were tbonaanda of err ore feeding.
They were eating graaa and the egg* of
grasshoppers.
In France the government pay* a
! Price for the gathering of theae egga
' Here the crowa do the work mnch more
effectively for nothing. I have in my
i life aeon whole meadow* a tripped of
blade aud seed by graaaboppera. Who i
; <*n aay that the crow* do not keep n* i
' from famine f Tlio annonnoement by j
your paper of the deatruetion of the j
1 crow* atrnek me arith the name aenaibil-
I ity aa if one had txiaatcd that be had
; dried up all the we 11a and all the r-pring*
jof the county 1 Should I aronae the
, State to paaa efficient law* for the pro
j teetion of crowa and other birda, I
| will bave done more for my country
I than all tho politician* and warrior* ao
| juatly made illuatrioua.
Daman a* a RucllDu
; One night at the theater of S n Carlo,
j Naplea, Dnroia the elder (fhe oclebrat
j ed French novelist), found himaelf ehat
i ting familiarly with a atranger who,
when th rlay wa* ov r, aaid to him
patronizingly :
" I have greatly eujoyed your oouver
aation, air, aud hope to aee m ire of you.
If ever you viait Pari* call on roe, I
am Alexander Dnmaa."
"The deuce yon are! So am 11" re-
Elied the noveliat, with a roar of
■ughter.
Ry the way, Dnmaa left Napiea under
peculiar circumstance*.
One fine morning he printed an arti
cle in whioh be handled the Italian
people in a manner more vigorous than
courteous.
At eight o'dock the paper came ont;
by ten Dnmaa received thirty chal
lenge* ; by noon, alxty. At one r. a. he
called a meeting of ti.e 120 friend* of
hia challenger*, and aaid nnto them :
" Gentlemen, I leave Naplee to-night,
and therefore have not time to light all
your principal* aingly. Neverthelee* I
am anxious to give than all the satisfac
tion that ia in my power, ao aa I have
the choice of weapons I propose fight
ing with piatola; your sixty principal*
will be collected into a group, and an re
ceiving the word fire a volley at ma and
I'll blase a war into the crowd."
The proposition wee not accepted.
A tailor on board a vessel in the har
bor of Zanta having been atrnek by
lightning, there was fonnd cm hia
breast the number M. being an exact
oopy of tho same figures on a part of
ship's rigging.
... r* i.
LIFE on THK KAIL.
Pern Ptriarn* •( Tra>M*ra.
Ik)b BardMto, the paogmt [rtgru>h
er of the Burlington Hawktye, DM
been traveling i good deal by rail lately,
and be supplies his paper with the fol
lowing amnning picture* of noma peo
ple he met on the cerw :
nnvma A *KAT.
A woman with three bird cagee and
a little girl, baa jnat got on the train.
Hhe arranges the tbreo bird oagea on a
seat, and then she and the little girl
stand up in the aisle and she glares
around upon the nugaliaut men who re
main glued to their seat* and look
dreamily out of the window. I bend my
face down to the tablet and write furi
oualy, for I feel her eyes fastened upon
me. Somehow or other, I am always
the victim in caAes of tide delicate na •
ture. Just as I expected. She speaka,
fastening her commanding gaze upon
me.
I " Sir, would it be aaking too much if
f begged you to let myaelf and my Utile
girl have that seat 7 A gentleman can
always find a scat so much more easily
than a lady."
And she smiled. Not the charming
oat kind of a smije. It was too trium
phant to be very pleasing. Of course I
surrendered. I said :
"Oh, certainly. I could find another
aeat without any trouble."
Hhe thanked me, and I crawled out of
my oomfortable seat, and gathered up
my overcoat, maun scrip*, my shawl strap
| package, my valine, my overshoe*, and
she and the little girl went into the
vacant premises as soon as the writ of
; ejectment had been served, and they
looked happy and oomfortable.
Then I stepped across the aisle ; I
took up those bird cagee and set them
along on top of the coal boi, and set
I down in the seat thus vacated. I apolo
! gelically remarked to the woman, who
; was gazing at me with ar> expression
thct boded trouble, that "it waa much
warmer for the canaries by the stove."
Hhe didn't say anything, but *he gave
me n look that made it much wanner for
ne, for about five minutes, than the
stove can make it for the canaries. I
don't believe she likes me, and I am un
comfortably oonfldent that she dis
approves of my conduct
mnoß or cojrviutsATio*.
A friendly passenger wants to talk. I
am net feeling particularly sociable thia
' morning, and consequently 1 do not
; propose to talk to anybody. He aaks
how I like this kind of* weather, and I,
i y. "splendidly."
lie laughs feebly, bnt encouragingly,
and says there has been a litUc too much
snow. I say, " Not for health, it was
just what we needed."
He asks if I beard of the accident on
the Central railroad, and I say, "Yea."
Then he arks me how it was, and I
tell him, "I don't know; didn't read
it"
He wants to know what I think of
Hayes, and I i ay, " I think he made a
i very good con able."
" Constable. ' he says, "I mean
President Hay
I say I tbo fht be meant Dennis
Haves, of Poor.?.
Then he asks f I " am going far f"
I say, " No."
" How far ?" he asks.
" Ponrteen hundred miles," I say,
unblnahingly.
He thinks that is what be would call
"far," and I make no response. Two
liabiee in the car arc rehearsing a little
and in rather faulty time, but with fine
expression. And the man. with one or
two " dashes," aaks it if doesn't bother
me to write with a lot of " brats squall
ing around.
I looked np at him very severely, for
it always make* me mad to hear a man
call a baby a " brat," and I say to him.
in a alow, impressive manner,* that " I
would rather listen to a baby cry than
hear a man swear,"
Thia eminently proper and higfaly
moral rebuke has ite efloet. The man
foraakes me, and be is now wreaking a
cheap miserable revenge on the smiling
passengers by whistling " My Grand
father's Clock," accompanying himself
by dramming on the window with his
fingers.
jnTKjrci.K IKORATnTDK.
A woman jrot* on the train and nay* a
very warm-hearted good-bye to a great
cob of a aixteen - year-old boy, wbo seta
down ber handle* and tarn* to leave the
oar with a gruff grant that may mean
; good-bye or anything elae. There ta a
i little quiver on ber lip at the calls after
him:
"Be a good boy; write to me often,
and do aa 1 tell TOO. "
He never looks around m he lea era
the oar fie looka jnat like the kind of
a boy who will do jnat aa ahe tell* him,
but ahe moat be carefnl to tell him to do
jnat aa be wants to. I have one bright
apark of consolation as the train moves
on and 1 aee that Imy performing a
clumsy satire on a clog dance on the
platform. Borne of these days he will
treat some man aa grnffiyand rudely aa
he treats his mother. Them the man
will climb on to him and lick him—
pound the very sawdust oat of him.
Then the world will feel better and hap-
Kfor the licking ha gets. It may be
' deferred, bnt it will come at last.
I almost wish I had pounded him my
self, while he is young and I felt able to
do it He may grow up into s very dis
couraging!* ragged man, utreaiydli
flenltto lick, and the work! may have to
wait a very long time for Una act of
jnatice. It frequently happens that
these bad boys grow ap into distress
ingly bad men.
Pee! 17 Pstttira. •
Poetry and politics have not modi
affinity for each other. There is vevy
little poetry shoot polities, and vice
versa. But when the moae does conde
scend to enter the political arena it
makes a big strike. what con Id be mora
suggestive than the following lines from
the May*rill© (Ky.) RutUUn f Where
be your sweet singers now f Listen :
If yeeateat ObaaUr'tmd.
B* aora and rota for J, J. Waod
If ysa'd aujoy fruit* rick sad rata.
Don't UM present tarn*.
anseasi tie anal
Will And tbaSmedy la J. P. Las.
Thm comm IMetarish to Um van.
Von couldnt tod a brttrr aaaa.
Bat that your joy ttert te so last In,'
Utopsbt It* fia**a Qsryfe HHTieke!
Pro** *n (riaswe * litest a scratch,
Tate "0. X. 8." and yes teva ta* batak